


i don't know if you notice anything missing

by gdgdbaby



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdgdbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he can think, at first, is that Molly was supposed to take care of this kind of thing way before it actually happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don't know if you notice anything missing

**Author's Note:**

> mark and eduardo meet again by chance, years after the fact. set in 2011. written for advent. originally posted at [livejournal](http://gdgdbaby.livejournal.com/95947.html).

All he can think, at first, is that Molly was supposed to take care of this kind of thing way before it actually happened. The second thing he registers is that Mark looks really fucking good in the three-piece he's wearing, lounging by the dinner buffet in the resort's sumptuous restaurant at the main clubhouse, a flute of champagne in hand. Eduardo sees Dustin sashay into the room out of the corner of his eye and sighs—they must be here for pleasure, not business. And that's his vacation ruined.

Eduardo's learned, over the years, to appreciate the intrinsic value of being alone, the freedom of not having to answer to anybody but himself. It started in Singapore, when he was still dredging together the beginnings of his hedge fund and didn't have time for anything but work, flying to new city every two weeks to meet with startups that needed his venture capital. There's Molly, of course, but the most personal thing she does is schedule intermittent sabbaticals for him when she thinks he hasn't been resting enough—funny, because she almost always sends him somewhere he'd have to be in transit for at least five hours to get to anyway, just another long trip to bleed in with the rest.

It's Switzerland, this time. He hasn't been to Europe in at least two years, and the villa she books for him is Spartan enough that he doesn't immediately feel the excess. Here, though, surrounded by tiny hors d'oeuvres and fingers of wine and patrons dressed to the nines, it all comes rushing back.

"Eduardo?" Dustin is the one who notices him, eyes wide like saucers as he circumnavigates the tables to get to him. "What the hell—what are you doing here, man? Long time no see."

He can't help but grin at Dustin's easy camaraderie. It's been years, and somehow he makes it feel like just yesterday when they were pulling all-nighters at the dorm in Kirkland for no reason but because they can. "I'm just here on vacation." They shake hands.

Mark follows at a more sedate pace, eyes unreadable. A curl of tension makes itself known and sits heavy in the pit of Eduardo's stomach as Dustin takes a seat at his table and starts going off about the latest software company he's decided to invest in.

This updated version of Mark Zuckerberg is slicker, to be sure, and better dressed—but everything about him is still quintessentially Mark: the dart of his gaze in five different directions every second, the slouching line of his shoulders, even the worn leather of his shoes that don't match the rest of his shiny bespoke at all.

"Wardo," he says, nodding his head, and the familiar way his mouth forms around the word has Eduardo knocking his chair back despite himself, hands clenched inside the pockets of his dress pants.

"Sorry," he says. His voice sounds as if it's coming through a tunnel, warped and tiny. "I—it was good seeing you. I forgot I have a phone meeting scheduled." He checks his watch for show and pushes away from the table. "Excuse me."

 

 

In an ideal world, Eduardo would've stayed holed up in his villa for the rest of the weekend and flown home on Sunday night without a second thought. Reality is not quite so kind. Mark has always been frighteningly single-minded once he set his eyes on anything, and this is no different.

"You lied about the meeting," Mark begins without preamble, after Eduardo opens the door against his better judgment.

"Very astute observation," he says, calmer now after a couple of tumblers of vodka. He leans against the wooden frame. "Did you need something?"

"Are you going to let me in?"

Eduardo laughs, at that—actually laughs. "Why would I do that?"

Mark blinks. "It's snowing."

Eduardo peers up and realizes it's true—flakes of it are spiraling down from the sky, a new coat of white for the entire city. Mark is regarding him quietly when Eduardo looks at him again. "You know, I ought to thank you," he says abruptly.

He savors the nonplussed look Mark throws at him. "Why?"

"Cutting me loose was the best thing you could've done for me."

Mark cocks his head to the side. "You aren't mad, then."

"Oh, I'm still mad," Eduardo says, because there's no point in hiding the truth. "But not so much that I can't see that leaving Facebook was a blessing in disguise. I know you didn't intend it as such—can't give you too much credit." He shrugs and turns away from the door, keeps it open so that Mark can come in and stomp his shoes off on the welcome mat. "But thank you."

Mark follows him into the living room and folds his jacket over the back of one of the sofas.

"Why did you come here?" he continues, genuinely curious.

"Vacation. Dustin forced me to—"

"Please. As if anyone could ever force you to do anything." Eduardo rolls his eyes. "Anyway—I meant, here, specifically. I'm sure it wasn't to genuflect—"

"I wanted to apologize," Mark interrupts.

Eduardo gapes at him for a moment. Then: "You couldn't have done this via Facebook message?"

Mark flushes.

"That would've been _neater_ , don't you think?"

"Don't be childish," Mark snaps, and Eduardo crosses his arms, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I—after you closed Facebook's original bank account, I realized you were prioritizing your own feelings over what was right for the company."

"Is this supposed to be the apology?"

"Hear me out." Mark messes with the cuff of his dress shirt, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "I didn't need a CFO who wouldn't keep Facebook's best interests at heart. I think you understand that, now. But what I did—I didn't realize at the time that cutting you out in the contract was also reactionary. I thought you'd betrayed me. I was angry." He shrugs. "So I did the exact same thing you did. And for that, I'm sorry."

Eduardo walks to the minibar in the back and pours himself another glass of alcohol—straight gin, this time. He can feel Mark's eyes on him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "I suppose that's the best I'll ever get out of you," he finally acknowledges, clipped short and deliberate. "Apology accepted."

Mark rises from the sofa. "I'll be going, then," he says, before Eduardo can do anything but sip at his drink. "It was—" his tongue flicks out to wet his lips, here, and Eduardo swallows reflexively, "—nice to see you again."

Eduardo shows him out, watches his retreating back shrink into the landscape. For a brief moment he toys with the idea about calling Mark back in for a couple of beers before he disappears completely—but the time for that, of course, is long past. Things will be clearer in the morning.

He closes the door.


End file.
